What Once Was Mine
by doggirl2772
Summary: This is it. He's tried everything, and each time he has, it still turns out the same. He's hurt, frightened, and tired; having failed many times what he so desperately wanted to change. And yet... Italy finds himself no longer alone. -based on HetaOni-


**A/N:** Alright, first Hetalia fanfiction! Please be gentle. XD;; I love the Hetalia group and I'd hate to give any of them injustice to their characters, so if you feel I've done something wrong, please PM me about it. Also, this is a HetaOni fic, so if you dislike the RPG or haven't seen it yet, you may not understand what is happening.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia, HetaOni, Tangled or any characters related to either. All credit is given to those who rightfully deserve it; namely Hidekaz Himaruya, FUNimation, and Disney. Oh yes, and Hubedihubbe from deviantArt for the wonderful idea and allowing me to run with it.

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><p><strong>What Once Was Mine<strong>

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><p>He could feel it staring at him. Those large, inhuman eyes… cold, dark, endless.<p>

Watching him _break__…_

Inhaling with a shaking breath, his brown eyes dull of their usual bright light, Italy -no, his name was Feliciano Vargas in this place- continued to stare before him. Tried so hard to ignore the deep crimson puddles that surrounded his boots… unfocused his eyes which showed him truth when what he desired more then not were lies…

Something, anything, to tell his aching heart what was before him, around him, were nothing more but his imaginings… some crazy, hallucinogenic dream that had fogged his mind, made him feel these tearing emotions, when really all he needed to do was… was wake up.

Once he was awake, Ita- Feliciano could just run from the room that had drugged his sleep, provoked his nightmares, and somehow talk his tough but blushing-wildly Germanic friend into letting him spend the rest of the night there in his company.

But the stench… smells of blood, putrid in it's own right, from the clothes he wore, the cuts he brandished and those motionless things before him…

Those figures which still resembled the bodies of humans despite how the unshed tears in his eyes blurred them.

Lips parted, parched and cracked, as another shuddering breath escaped from the small Italian. His voice as it slid past was soft, staggering over his tongue as though drunk with emotion, as the twin dark green uniforms and the brown bomber jacket suddenly and painfully pulled themselves into view.

"F-Flower, gleam and glow… let your power… sh-shine… Make the clock reverse… bring back what once was m-mine…"

Pale hair, once so flamboyant and groomed like it's human, lay remained caked in blood at his right, while the soft-spoken man the world continuously forgot rested in a similar state on the left. The childish face behind him was much more innocent in death, the soft white scarf he wore splattered now with red. And beside him, brothers curled inward, facing one another to fend off the pain and nightmares the world had given them. Even further behind him… closer to Ger- Ludwig, now in death… One whom had worried over him… had protected him… had offered help and security and the option of _not being alone anymore__…_

Gone, all of them, despite how hard they had fought. How many times he had _tried _to keep them from leaving him…

"Heal wh-what has been… hurt… ch-change the f-fate's design… Save what has b-been lost… bring back what once… was mine…"

_Russia… China… Prussia..._

Fingers curled around the binding of a small book, pressing it against his chest. Feliciano could feel his heart thumping against the hardcover, almost as if the two were trying to connect past flesh and cloth.

_America… England… France… Canada…_

He couldn't help it. Taking another painstaking breath, hazy eyes closed beneath a shield that cracked almost instantly. Salted tears spread down his cheeks, making their own river along the pale skin.

_Japan… and Germany… _

"…Wh-What once was… m-mine…"

The note ended with a sob instead of a tune, and the long fingers clutched in fright at the book against his chest. Unable to look at the being before him, one who had taken everything he had… Feliciano instead tipped his head backwards. Tears continued to fall, peppering his uniform and the ground where he stood.

Trying to ignore the toll of death around him, the young Italian nation let his shoulders fall limp. Imagined the faces around him, not blank and lifeless, but smiling and laughing and very much _still alive__…_

He took another breath. His shudders had long since seized.

Whatever happened in death, he could handle. Italy knew that very well.

In death, there would be no pain. There would be no anguish of war, no wounds of betrayal, no fear of being alone.

Holy Roman Empire would be there… waiting for him, reaching out his hand, smiling politely with a bright blushing pink painted across his cheeks.

If Holy Rome was there… if his friends were there… then whatever this monster did to him would mean nothing.

Unaware of the attack until it had been fulfilled, the brunette dropped to his knees in a sudden lack of strength. There was a sting in his side, burning slightly from his shoulder down to his hip, but Feliciano still kept his eyes closed, and head thrown back.

The book in his grasp slipped. It hit the cement ground with a bang, the spine snapping the pages open as the young man's body fell backwards; landing so closely beside a blond burly man with slicked back hair that it looked to be an odd embrace with one hand outstretched. Fingertips, now cold to the touch, grazed across the soft cheek of a black haired Japanese man further down.

_To the me who lives in some point in time and who isn't alone…_

Italy, Feliciano Vargas, had done all he could. And failed.

But miraculously, and thankfully, he was no longer alone.


End file.
